


paradise

by mirocthound



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: As One Does, Canon Non-Binary Character, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Other, References to Depression, Sickfic, Stardew Valley - Freeform, bloodhound plays a shit ton of candy crush to disassociate from life, but i thought i should tag it just in case anyone is nervous about that stuff, can you tell i'm just projecting at this point, its in the past though dont worry, listen we all gotta cope somehow, non binary character, nothing beats depression better then a shower and some stardew valley, smh, theres not enough octhound content and im singlehandedly going to change that if i have to, they need a little tlc and octavio is more then happy to provide, this is just a really self indulgent depression fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23064556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirocthound/pseuds/mirocthound
Summary: patience certainly wasn't his strong suit, but for them, Octavio could try.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	paradise

**Author's Note:**

> please read the tags, theres just some mild warnings in there amidst the rambling. this is just really self-indulgent and i've been using this as a liddol bit of a coping fic for when i feel down and lonely. mental health is really hard, especially when your biggest habit is to just isolate yourself and make it worse. 
> 
> been listening to "where is my mind" by pixies, "paranoid android" by radiohead, and "paradise" by the neighbourhood a whole heck of a lot while i wrote this.

“How long have you been in there?”

Octavio stood at the foot of their bed, console tucked under one arm, staring at the lump wrapped up in the center of the bed. The covers were tangled and messed, and the sheets were undone in one corner, leaving a small square of mattress exposed. The room was dark and cramped, with the curtains sufficiently blocking any sign of daylight from peeking through. It was stuffy, almost suffocating. He didn’t understand how they could bear to stay stuck in there for a second longer. 

The lump only made a small noise of acknowledgement, but otherwise didn’t move. 

The speedster sighed, reaching out to the blankets, nudging the bundle with his hand. “Hey. I’m talking to you.”

“Go away.”

Ah, at least they were alive. They’d disappeared for a while there, and at first Octavio thought it had been for one of their many hunting escapades— but after enough time had passed, he’d realized the truth. 

It had been a while since they did this, but now that he thought about it more, the signs were clear as ever. He was kicking himself a little, for not recognizing the pattern sooner, but the past was the past. All he could do was work with the now. 

“Nah, I’m already here. Cmon, let’s order a pizza or something.” 

The nest in the center of the bed stirred, seeming to wriggle until a hand finally wormed its way out from the blanket-chamber, tugging themself free until wild red curls and dark narrow eyes peered at him from between the covers.

“... What are you even doing here?”

Hound sounded tired— too tired to argue his presence here. He supposed that was a plus, since they wouldn’t put effort into kicking him out, but he didn’t like seeing them so worn down and threadbare.

“Thought you might’ve missed this handsome mug.” He joked, settling himself down at the edge of the bed, patting what he guessed was their thigh, hidden underneath all the fluff. 

He could see the dull glow of a screen nestled in the blankets, and he grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Really? If it was that bad, you could’ve texted me.” 

They huffed, turning it off, trying to hide the evidence. “Don’t talk to me.” They said, and Octavio laughed, shaking his head. 

“What level is that?” 

“... Somewhere in the four thousands. I stopped paying attention.” 

“You know, Candy Crush doesn’t have infinite levels. You’re gonna run out at some point. What are you going to do then?” 

“There’s a Soda version after this.” They replied blandly, and Octavio laughed again. 

The room fell into silence for a while, and he just listened to their steady breathing. When he chanced a glance over at them, their eyes were closed. Even with distance, he could see the dark circles, he can see the tension in their brow. Just the way they were curled up, hidden away— it was so unlike themself. The way they stood in the games held so much pride and power and confidence. They looked anything but confident now.

“Come on, Hound.” He urged, voice much softer now, holding less humor. “You wanna take a shower?”

They stayed still for a long time, unmoving, unanswering. He didn’t press, but just waited. Patience certainly wasn’t his strong suit, but for them, Octavio could try.

Eventually, they nodded, and Octavio smiled, once again patting their thigh before standing back up. 

“Do you need some help?”

They paused again, before once more, they nodded. Carefully, Octavio began to unwrap the blankets, and Hound sat up, hands coming to rub at their eyes. 

It was slow going, the migration from their bedroom to the shower, but Octavio didn’t push them, let them take their time. Their room was an obstacle course— he wondered how long it’s been since they cleaned it. They stepped with bare feet over the mounds of clothing and the occasional knife scattered across the floor, and Octavio followed after, stooping to grab a lone towel that didn’t look too dirty.

When he finally followed after them into the small bathroom, he found them standing before the mirror, staring emptily at their own reflection. He didn’t say anything, but gently placed a hand at their lower back, urging them away from the glass and towards the bathtub. Hound didn’t speak either— just turned until they couldn’t see the mirror anymore, and slowly began to drag themself free from the clothing.

Octavio just busied himself with throwing the towel on the counter of the sink, before fiddling around with the settings on the shower, until the water flowed out, billowing with steam. He knew they liked the temperature scalding hot, so he turned it until it was all the way up. 

The bottles of shampoo in the little caddy were empty, so he turned to dig around under the sink for a spare. He knew they went through hair products fast, and therefore tended to keep extras on hand. When he found one and turned back around, they were seated in the tub, curled up into a little ball with the hot water beating against their back. 

“... You still want me here?” He asked, hesitating. He knew what it felt like to be uncomfortable in your own skin. He wasn’t sure if his presence was bringing them comfort, or anxiety. 

Hound didn’t say anything, but just slowly turned their head until they faced him, resting it sideways on their knees, arms locked tightly around their shins. They stared at him, unblinking, and he just stared back, keeping his distance, until they nodded again. Slowly, each movement careful and non-threatening, Octavio approached the tub, before sitting down next to them, resting his elbows on the slowly-warming acrylic.

“Hey.” He said softly, reaching out to brush some of their damp and wild hair out of their face. They just watched him still, and the exhaustion and sadness in their gaze made a lump form in his throat. 

_I should have come sooner_ , his mind supplied, but the thought did no good, so he just tucked it away. 

“Let’s get you washed up.” He said instead, and Hound just sighed, relaxing a little and closing their eyes. 

Their hair was so tangled, Octavio didn’t even know how to start. He knew it was important to them, but also overwhelming at times. He didn’t know a lot about hair care— let alone with their hair type and texture, but over the last few times he’d had to help them with it, his hair-management skills had improved. Ok, and maybe he'd also studied a few YouTube tutorials... but they didn't have to know that. 

They had _so much_ , it was easier to work in sections. He started with the shampoo, being extra careful not to let any of the suds slip down into their eyes. They weren’t being particularly helpful, resting their head on their knees, but he just worked in silence, letting them rest as he massaged their scalp. “... Feels nice?” He asked gently, and they just hummed softly in reply. It was a good enough answer for him to continue. 

The real trouble was conditioning. It was knotted in so many places, it took a lot of work with nimble fingers and the comb he fished out from the drawer to get through it all. He worked, strand by strand, until he could run his fingers through their locks without catching any snarls in between. 

It wasn’t often when they got like this, but he knew why. The off-season always seemed to hit them hard. Most legends left to go visit family, take a break. He didn’t know much about their life outside Apex, but from the patterns he took care to notice, it didn’t seem like they really _had_ a life outside of Apex. The few times they’d mentioned some sort of ‘home’, it was in a past tense. From the way he’d seen their gaze grow distant, from the way he’d hear their voice trail away into silence, it appeared there wasn’t a home for them there any more. Nor a family waiting for them, either. 

Octavio could relate. It had been a long time since he’d spoken to his parents, and he wouldn’t describe their place as somewhere he could crash during the off-season, either. During the holiday, he and Wraith had tagged along with Elliott to his mom’s house. It had been lovely and homey. She was a kind woman, even if he had to remind her why he was there and who he was every now and again, but she had made him feel more at home there then he’d felt anywhere for years. 

It hurt, thinking of Hound just staying behind in the empty Apex building when everyone else had gone somewhere nice for the season. 

“Alright, you’re all rinsed out. Want to get out?” He asked, and Hound didn’t answer. He patted their shoulder, and they just sighed, rubbing their cheek back and forth against their knees.

“Not yet.” They eventually said. Their voice was so soft and quiet, Octavio could barely hear it over the rushing water. 

“Okay. I’ll go get you some clothes, yeah?”

They only hummed, and Octavio lingered for a few moments more, before slowly clambering back up to his feet. His shirt was soaked through by now, but it was a mild discomfort at the back of his mind.

He gave them their space, instead once again climbing through the absolute disaster of their bedroom. They were usually so organized and put together, if not a bit chaotic in house decor choices, but they never let it get this bad. He wanted to help them with it— he really did, but he was bad at staying organized and doing tedious things. He’d probably just end up distracting them more than actually being of assistance. It was whatever, cleaning could be saved for a better day. Right now, it didn't matter. 

Somehow, he made it across the room alive, and began rooting through their dresser. Most of their clothes were plain and simple, but he decided on the most comfy pair of pajama pants and a nice, baggy shirt. While he was at it, he snatched another shirt to replace his own, since it was absolutely drenched and he didn’t feel like wearing wet clothes all night.

Ten minutes passed. He busied himself with setting up his console by the little television in their room, reconnecting the controller, and adjusting the volume so it wasn’t too loud, and wasn’t too quiet. Fifteen. He shook out their blankets and rearranged their pillows, remaking their bed so it was more comfortable and less smothering. Twenty. He was starting to feel a little worried, but decided they could use the space, so he just fiddled on his phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media, and answering a few tweets from fans. Thirty. He watered the plants around their room with an abandoned water bottle he'd found on the floor. 

By the 45 minute mark, he couldn’t even lie and say he was on his phone anymore— he was just glancing between the time at the top of his screen, and the bathroom. Steam still flowed in wisps from the crack under the door, and he could hear the dull roar of rushing water, but not much else.

Before he could stop himself, Octavio was hovering by the bathroom, knuckles nervously tapping against the door. “Hey, you good in there?” There was no answer, and the anxiety coiling in his stomach shot up to wrap tightly around his throat. He didn’t know what he was afraid of, but he was afraid nonetheless. 

“I’m coming in.” He called out hoarsely, and he gently nudged the door open, peeking his head into the warm and damp room. 

Hound hadn’t moved. They hadn’t even closed the curtain, and water had collected on the floor in thick puddles. Their eyes didn’t even come up to meet his, just stared blankly towards the doorway, lifeless and empty. 

“... Hey, I think it’s time to get out now…” Octavio said lowly, voice thick and throat tight. He crouched by the tub to turn off the water, and the room suddenly was very silent— save for the gurgle of the drain and the occasional drip of water. They still didn’t respond. There was no sign that they were even listening. 

“Come on, Hound.” He said, voice a little insistent, a little impatient— but mostly laced with concern. He reached out to brush some of the wet clumps of hair from their face, and finally, they looked up to him.

He’d never get used to seeing them like this. Just so raw, so broken down. It was rare he even got to see their eyes, but he always counted on seeing that spark of mischief, the intelligence and the power and the confidence that they usually held. Hound was an enigma, for sure, but for someone who was known for being a blank slate, their expressions were always something to behold. The furrow of their brow when they squinted down at their phone, the soft smile they presented when Artur nestled a little gift into their palm, the shine in their eye before they delivered a snarky comment that made Octavio squall. 

But now, there was just nothing. Just a dull glaze, glossed over a void. He didn’t like it. It was like they were a shell, like they were gone, and there was no trace of this person he’d grown so fond of. 

“Please?” He asked, uncharacteristically quiet. 

They just stared for a few moments more, before they slowly closed their eyes and nodded. Relief flooded Octavio’s systems, faster than a stim injection straight to the heart. He nodded, shifting back onto his metal feet, cautious not to slip on the drenched floor. 

It was slow going. Incredibly slow. _Painfully_ slow. Octavio wasn’t good at going slow, but he stayed very still as they held his hand, carefully standing, each step sure and gentle, helping to make sure they wouldn’t fall. 

They took each step across the floor one at a time bare feet padding on the wet tile. Octavio stopped them only for a second, just to snag the towel from the sink counter and wrap it around them. Their hair was already starting to dry, small clumps already beginning to frizz up into their signature mane. 

Together, they moved from the bathroom to the bedroom, a small procession of clumsy steps and soaked, damp footprints across the floor. The water on the bathroom floor could be left for now-- it was unimportant. 

Octavio worked in silence, dragging the towel across their dark skin, swiping the cloth extra tenderly across old scars that had long since healed, deep and contrasting so sharply against their skin tone. Even if the wounds were old, he always treated them with gentleness. From the burns on their shoulders and neck, to the thick jagged lines of claws over their chest, to the lines that were eerily even and smooth across their arms. All of them were aged, the melanin in their skin lost in these patches and places through the grueling process of healing. Octavio never asked where they got any of them. He just knew they were there, and thats all he needed. He wasn't the kind of guy to linger on the past either way.   
  
Once their body was dry, he stood on tip toes to reach up to their head, doing his best to carefully pat out the rest of the water caught in their hair. Hound gratefully ducked their head down, making his work easier. It only took a few moments-- he probably could’ve been more thorough, but he figured Hound was ready to collapse back into their bed. 

Sluggish and slow, they tugged on the pair of sweats that he’d fished out for them, but didn’t bother with a shirt. Octavio felt like pestering them about it a little, maybe cracking a joke about that old wive’s tale about catching a cold with wet hair and no clothes-- but the comment died on his tongue before he could even think too much about it.   
  


Instead, neither of them spoke. They just flopped onto the comforter, and Octavio climbed in next to them, leaning back onto the pillows. Hound just stayed very still, before slowly bringing their legs up, curling in on themself. He didn’t want to bother them, but it didn’t look very comfortable.   
  
“Come up here. Lets get you all settled,” He asked gently, and they were too tired to argue-- only dragged their body upwards towards the headboard, until they were cradled in plush pillows, still deciding not to climb under the blanket. Octavio decided not to pester further, and just leaned over to snag the controller from where he’d stowed it on the bedside table.   
  
“What are we feeling tonight? Minecraft? Skyrim? Maybe some Red Dead? We can rob another train, if you want.”   
  
They stayed quiet for a long while, and for a moment, Octavio wondered if they’d even processed what he said. If they were even listening. He hoped, maybe selfishly, that they were listening to him, instead of whatever internal monologue they were suffering through. It was foolish, to think even with his bold behavior and endless energy, that he could be louder then their own head.   
  
But eventually they uncurled just a little, head tilting over to the television, watching the screen boot up with the familiar introduction animation of the console. “The Valley.” They decided, and Octavio couldn’t stop himself from smiling just a little.   
  
“Stardew?" They nodded. "Nice choice. Y’know, I think we left off in Spring. Got our work cut out ahead of us.”   
  
They said nothing, but he could tell from the way their shoulders loosened that they were smiling. He couldn’t see it, but the idea made him feel warm all the same.   
  
The room was dark, save for the dull glow of the television. He loaded the game up, and they both stayed quiet, just listening to the simple opening music, watching the pixelated birds flutter across a blue sky, watching the screen pan up to the familiar menu, displaying the words ‘Stardew Valley’ on a sixteen-bit wooden sign.   
  
It was still a bit cramped in their bedroom, but it wasn’t so heavy anymore. It couldn’t be, with the cheery, campy farm music. Octavio was focused on the screen, but he could see in his peripheral vision as they slowly unfurled. He could hear the rustling of blankets as they scooted closer until he could feel their breath on his shoulder, until he could feel their warmth pressed against his side. They weren’t looking at the TV, but they didn’t have to.   
  
Just laying here next to him, in their freshly made bed, hair damp and water clinging to the pillows, with the soft glow of a video game in the background-- It was enough. 

  
He was enough.   
  
They were going to be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> that's all, folks. also also-- the last part of 'three's a crowd' is so close to being done, i can almost taste it. however i am a shitty writer and can't figure out how to end it smoothly... its so frustrating bc its like 99.9% done and yet i am stuck. thank you for being patient with me, y'all, idk how you put up with it. 
> 
> also please leave comments. they feed me.


End file.
